


and this is how it starts

by 30shayds



Category: One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30shayds/pseuds/30shayds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis looks at him. Assessing. Considering. A moment at which Harry felt like he was under a microscope. And then, "you are a virgin, aren't you?"</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>Harry slips a squeak as he covers his face in his hands. This cannot be happening to him. He thinks this is the most embarrassing moment of his life. Bar none.</i></p>
<p>  <i>"Hey," Louis soothes, his foot grazing at Harry's sock-clad ankle. "'S alright. Nothing wrong with that." Harry knows there's nothing wrong with that. He's actually quite fine with it. He's not in a hurry. It's just embarrassing to have your much older crush point it out to you. But then Louis surprises him again with his forwardness. "You think I'm fit, right?"</i></p>
<p>  <i>Harry wishes that the lift would just plummet down and kill him already. But then that would mean Louis would die too and that's not okay, so he takes that wish back as quickly as he made it.</i></p>
<p>  <i>"I see you looking at me, Harry. You don't have to be ashamed. I was just asking that because if you want, I could show you how the sounds happen, yeah? I promise it'll be good."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is how it starts

**Author's Note:**

> To be clear, while this is underage and there is a bit of an age difference between the characters, the setting is in the UK where the age of consent is 16 years old. Hence, the sex here is perfectly legal. However, if this is offensive to you, please do not proceed.
> 
> The prompter did not actually ask for the age difference and the underage thing, it just happened this way when I started writing it. I hope this is not an issue. And I hope alittlebitofyourheart likes this anyway, but if not, I apologize.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta [WhoisAlaska](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoisAlaska/pseuds/WhoisAlaska) for reading this over at the last minute and helping me clean this up!
> 
> I've placed the prompt at the end notes. Title from that song by The 1975. x

It's 10 past 11 in the evening and Harry is exhausted. He's been staring at his laptop for the past 30 minutes and coming up blank on how to expound further on his article for the student publication. He's beginning to think that maybe he's overreaching again. He just got into sixth form at Chelsea Academy and he's already got his hands full from all the extra-curricular activities he's joined. And then he thinks about getting into Cambridge University and the exhaustion suddenly takes a step back, with the wheels in his mind beginning to work again. Except, he gets distracted by the sounds that permeate through the wall separating his room and their next door neighbour's apartment.

Two months ago, a bachelor in his early 20's moved into the apartment right beside Harry's family's. Harry had witnessed as movers came and went through the apartment door several times during that day, but he didn't see the owner then because he had been called by his mum for dinner. He did, however, have a chance to finally see their neighbour one fateful day as he was waiting for the lift down to the lobby of their building on his way to school.

The man had opened the door in just his boxers to retrieve the newspaper on his doorstep. Harry's a young boy who has already figured for some time that he appreciates the male anatomy more than the female's. Not that anyone really knew. Harry doesn't really have friends at school; at least not anyone worth confiding important self-discoveries to. And he can't very well just come out to his family; he's not ready for anything like that. Besides, he's never really had a reason to do something so grandiose as to declare to the world his sexuality. He appreciates goodlooking males, but he's never been so entranced with one so much as to make his attraction obvious. Except that day.

The man had silky brown hair, the tips reaching down the back of his neck and looking a bit mussed--probably from sleep. His facial hair was neatly trimmed and lightly covered the lower half of his face. Although he didn't look like he was all that taller or bigger than Harry (in fact, for the man's age, Harry thought he looked a bit small), he was quite lean and sported a really nice set of abs. Harry couldn't help ogling at the tattoos littering the man's chest and arm. He was fascinated at the randomness of the designs, so much so that he didn't even realize that he was already blatantly staring.

The man straightened up from having picked up the newspaper on his doorstep, unfolding it noisily. It was then that he noticed Harry, this kid in his pressed school uniform, frozen in place, eyes wide and unmoving, fixed on him. The man smirked at Harry and then winked. And it did something unspeakable to good little Harry, a discomfort that was, albeit new to him, not entirely unwelcomed. The trance was broken, however, by the lift's tell-tale _ding_ , as he turned to the shiny golden sliding doors already an inch apart. He quickly returned to where his neighbour had stood, but found (to his slight dismay) that the door was already closed. Peter, the young man operating one of the two lifts of the building in the morning, greeted him chirpily. Harry went into the lift with the lingering image of his almost-naked, very attractive neighbour swimming in his head.

They never had the chance to speak after that. He never saw the man anywhere outside (or even inside) the building. He did get an occasional glimpse of him twice or thrice a week, on mornings when he would wait for the lift and the man would come out to fetch his newspaper. Once, the man was wrapped in a towel, covering only the waist down, hair still wet and dripping. Harry was once again captivated and oh-so-blatantly stared. He earned a smirk and a wink for his ogling. Another time, he was in a plain gray shirt and blue boxers with duck prints on them, hair still mussed and looking rather sleepy as he rubbed his left eye with his knuckle. Harry's lips quirked at the sight. But then, another man came from behind Harry's neighbour (whose name is still lost on Harry), wrapped his arms around him and pulled him inside the apartment. He didn't even get the chance to see Harry.

Just a few days after Harry's appreciation had developed into a full-blown crush, he discovered that his bedroom wall was in fact adjacent to his neighbour's own. Some nights, Harry can hear him blasting music that Harry's not very versed with--something of a loud nature, with heavy percussion and electric guitars. Other nights, he can hear his lone screams of either joy or frustration at the football match on the telly. And then there were those nights when the sounds were barely there, but Harry can hear stinted breaths and consistent moans that to Harry is the kind of sound that expresses pain. The sound baffles Harry, as sometimes he can hear them coming from just one person, and sometimes there are two, but there are also those times when it seemed like there were three. It's always confused him.

See, Harry is quite the sheltered boy. Grew up in a strict household, the youngest of two siblings. His mother, a university professor. His father, a respected lawyer and a member of the academe, as well. They were a posh family, living in the better part of London. And as such, his parents have had the means to afford to close in their children from all the worldly things that waited at every creeping corner to pounce on them. While Harry and Gemma, his sister, had full access to the Internet, the firewalls on all their given devices were near unbreachable. Unlike Gemma, who is most popular among her peers, Harry doesn't have proper friends, and consequently, does not have more convenient means to look up things that he knew of. Like, say, porn.

Harry is not a complete idiot, of course. He knows what sex is. He's seen photos of naked people (sometimes they just randomly pop up on his Twitter timeline). But he's never seen an actual pornographic movie with all the relentless panting and groaning.

And so, Harry had no inkling of what the sound was when it came to him that late evening as he was working on his article through the walls that separated his room and that of the man that he was crushing on. As the sounds continue, he decides to call it a night and try to finish his article tomorrow. He goes to bed lulled by faint sounds of whimpering and humming that makes him think of when his mum would comfort him to sleep when he was much, much younger.

The next day started out as Harry's days normally did. He didn't see his neighbour crush in the morning on his way to school, but that's okay, it's normal. He goes to his classes and SA meetings like he normally would. He chats to some of his peers about awfully mundane things, which is how conversations with his peers normally go. When school was out, the driver fetches him and drives him straight home to their apartment building--normal. Ben, the doorman, greets him as he normally does every afternoon; but as he passes the concierge, Agatha, the lady that mans the booth informs him that only one of the lifts is operational but that Jonathan, the guy who operates the only working lift is indisposed at the moment, so Ben will assist him in the elevators. This is not abnormal, but this rarely happens.

Ben wasn't riding the lift with Harry all the way up to their floor. That's ridiculous (who'd man the doors?). He does, however, activate the floor buttons and pushes the one where Harry's family's apartment is at. Ben tells him to have a good day with a smile, which Harry politely returns with a chirpy "thank you," before the other leaves. And then the gap of the doors inches closer to all but a foot when a hand shoots through the middle, causing the sliding doors to immediately halt and re-open. In comes neighbour crush with a blinding grin, looking fully accomplished at what he's just done, and Harry could instantly feel the heat rising from his neck all the way to his cheeks. It was mechanical when he tugged at the collar of his uniform.

"Aye there, laddie," neighbour crush greets.

"Hello," Harry squeaks.

The doors close and it's just them in the lift, the soothing music from the sound system serving as a buffer between their silence. Harry feels pathetically shy. This is the first time he's been this close to this man and his knees feel like jelly. It's so juvenile, he internally curses himself for not being cool about it.

"Alright, there, mate?"

Harry's self-deprecation was interrupted by the other occupant of the lift. He looks up to see concerned blue eyes on him. They were bright despite being bordered by lines that were caused by the right kind of stress. Like the one Harry's seen on his sister when she laboured on a presentation for the clean water proposal of the United Nations department she was working for. Or like the one on his mum's when she was to make a huge speech in front of Parliament on why academic funding needed to be raised. They were stress lines of accomplishing something big and important. Neighbour crush was someone big and important.

"'M’ fine, thanks."

The man nods. And that was supposed to be that, but then the light flickers and the box they were riding in jerks a couple of times before it finally comes to a complete stop. Darkness filled the space for about two seconds before the dimmer emergency lights came on.

"What the fuck!" Neighbour crush exclaims. He goes to the panel with all the buttons and starts to randomly push on them. "Christ," Harry hears him mutter.

Suddenly, a voice comes through the speakers. It was Agatha. "Mr. Tomlinson? Harry? Can you hear me?"

Harry and Mr. Tomlinson both shout, "Yes!"

"Mr. Tomlinson? There's a red button at the top of the panel, you need to push it when speaking, in order for me to hear you."

"Bloody hell," Mr. Tomlinson curses softly, but pushes the button all the same. "Agatha!"

"Are you alright, Mr. Tomlinson? How's Harry?"

"I'm fine," the man answers, and then looks to Harry for confirmation, to which he receives a nod. "Harry's fine, too. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mr. Tomlinson. It's just the electric circuit tripped when trying to restart the other lift, we'll have the power back in a few minutes."

"How few are the minutes we are looking at here?"

"Just some 15 to 20 minutes."

"Motherf--"

"I'm deeply sorry, Mr. Tomlinson."

There was a long pause before Mr. Tomlinson pushes the red button again. "It's not your fault, Agatha. Just please try to be quick about it. And kindly coordinate with my secretary so I could have a meeting with Mr. Tate within the week."

"I'll do that, Mr. Tomlinson."

Mr. Tomlinson groans long and deep, like he's riddled with so much burden. He turns to Harry abruptly, shaking his head, and confiding in him as if they're not strangers at all. "Can you believe this? One of the most expensive buildings in all of London and it's got faulty lifts. I bloody vouched for this building in front of my father, like. I said this is a good investment. But I've been here two months and either one of the lifts' always under maintenance, and now we're both trapped in one. My father's gonna have my head if I don't fix this shithole."

"Y-you own the building?"

Mr. Tomlinson grins, teeth glinting white against the dimness of the space. "Sure do, Harold."

"Harry," he corrects.

"Lovely name. You can call me Louis."

Harry nods.

"Well, Harry, now that we're friends. Can you do me a small favor?"

"S-sure?"

"Can you be a good laddie and not tell your mummy and daddy that you got trapped in the lifts this afternoon?"

"Why?"

Louis sighs. "This is the kind of stupid shit that will lose tenants." He smiles at Harry, then. "We just became friends, haven't we? Not too keen on losing you so soon."

Harry thanks his lucky stars that the light was incredibly dim; the flush on his face was hidden in plain sight.

Eventually, they find themselves sitting on the carpeted floor of the lift right across each other. Louis' outstretched legs were crossed at the ankles, while Harry sat timidly and keeping his knees bent against his chest. Louis is great, Harry thinks. He's so comfortable speaking to strangers, where Harry is not (especially not men he was attracted to). He asks Harry how old he is--16; asked about whether sour old Mr. Lipnicky teaching History is still in Chelsea Academy--he is; asked about how long Harry's family have been staying in the building--6 years.

"We should be well on our way out soon enough, Harold. You have any questions for me?"

Harry shakes his head. Not really having anything to ask at the top of it.

"Aw, c'mon. No need to be shy," Louis teases. "You can ask me anything."

"Uhm. Well, h-how old are you?"

Louis' grin was infectious; so much so that Harry felt his lips quirk at the corners. "Be turning 24, mate."

"W-what do you do? Your job, like."

"Real estate. Family business, innit?"

Harry nods. He doesn't really have anymore questions. The pause makes Louis ask, "anything else you wanna know, Harry?" And it was then that Harry remembers, and he was asking the question before he even had the chance to think it through.

"Was there anyone hurt last night?"

Louis' face contorts into confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I just. Well, I can hear. I mean, I heard someone, like, crying."

Louis still looks confused.

"Like when a puppy cries, like." And then Harry whimpers to prove his point.

Louis laughs then. "Oh my god. That's--"

Harry shrinks back into his invisible protective bubble. He has embarrassed himself, in front of someone he fancies of all people. He wishes for a black hole to devour him. Louis notices his discomfort and immediately stops cackling.

"No. Oh, Harry, I didn't mean. I'm not laughing at you."

"Was just asking, cos you said...."

"Yeah, I know I said. Sorry, mate. I didn't think you were being serious, like."

Harry keeps his head low. He didn't think he would sound so stupid. It seemed like a fair enough question. He was just concerned and he said as much. "I was just concerned."

"I realize that. I'm sorry. Okay, well, no one was hurt last night. Those are like...happy crying sounds? I guess you could say."

Harry nods, taking the explanation as it is given even though that explained nothing; and not further wanting to embarrass himself, he decides to shut up.

But then Louis decides to press. "You listen to what's happening in my flat?"

Harry's eyes widen. "N-not on purpose! I could--I could hear some sounds, is all."

"What else you heard?" Louis inquires, sounding genuinely amused but not at all adverse.

"I don't know. Sometimes it's like someone's hurt cos they groan like they're in pain. And, I... I hope no one ever was."

Louis smirks at him, managing to look both fond and sultry. "You really don't know, Harry? those sounds, I mean. You really don't know what they were?"

Harry stares at him all doe-eyed and innocent, shaking his head and disturbing the brown curls atop it.

Louis looks at him. Assessing. Considering. A moment at which Harry felt like he was under a microscope. And then, "you are a virgin, aren't you?"

Harry slips a squeak as he covers his face in his hands. This cannot be happening to him. He thinks this is the most embarrassing moment of his life. Bar none.

"Hey," Louis soothes, his foot grazing at Harry's sock-clad ankle. "'S alright. Nothing wrong with that." Harry knows there's nothing wrong with that. He's actually quite fine with it. He's not in a hurry. It's just embarrassing to have your much older crush point it out to you. But then Louis surprises him again with his forwardness. "You think I'm fit, right?"

Harry wishes that the lift would just plummet down and kill him already. But then that would mean Louis would die too and that's not okay, so he takes that wish back as quickly as he made it.

"I see you looking at me, Harry. You don't have to be ashamed. I was just asking that because if you want, I could show you how the sounds happen, yeah? I promise it'll be good."

Harry has barely had the time to think about it, let alone respond to the invitation, when Agatha's voice booms from the speaker and Louis scrambles up to push the red button and talk to her.

After they received the good news, the lights turn fully on and the engine of the lift starts to rev, jerking it into life. Louis lets go of the red button and turns to Harry (who was already standing up at this point), the smirk on his face making Harry's knees wobble.

"You come to my door in 30 minutes, if you want, okay? I just have something to take care of once we get out of this box."

Once again, Harry's deprived of a chance to reply as the _ding_ of the lift announces that they are finally on their floor. There were two men waiting for them, one of whom immediately apologizes to Louis. They don't pay the teenage kid any mind as they desperately explain to the owner of the building what had happened. Before entering the door to their own apartment, he gives a last look at Louis but gets nothing in return, too involved in serious matters about the state of the building his family had just bought.

As per usual on a weekday afternoon, Harry was left home alone. It wasn't for another two hours before the cook would come by to make supper, and another hour after that before his mum (who is usually the first to get home) arrives. He bolts straight to his room to drop his bag and sit on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at his study table. He spends a good 10 minutes thinking if he should go to Louis'. He wanted to, sure, but he was still nervous to do so even though he's about 98% sure Louis won't ever hurt him. And then he spends 15 minutes thinking whether he should take a bath before going over there, or at least get out of his school uniform and change into his street clothes. Before he realizes it, the 30-minute ultimatum has come and it was only on pure instinct that made Harry bolt to Louis', just barely swiping his keys to the apartment.

He stops in front of the sky blue door, bending over and catching his breath. He raises a knuckle, intending to make known his arrival, when the door swings wide open. Louis is standing in front of him, in loose joggers and nothing else; a stark contrast to Harry's stiff outfit. For a minute, he feels completely overdressed, but his mind eases when Louis beams at him, saying, "glad you decided to leave on the uniform."

Harry is a mixture of excited and scared. He's never done this, he's never gone inside a stranger's house by himself. Especially not one that he was frustratingly attracted to. The only other times he went into someone else's home was when he was with his parents and sister, all formal parties at huge mansions for benefits and charities. And he's never particularly felt then what he was feeling now.

"Alright?" Louis asks, pulling him from his thoughts.

Harry nods. They were stood awkwardly by the living area of the loft apartment. It wasn't as big as Harry's family's apartment next door, but it was definitely big enough for a bachelor living alone. Too big, in fact.

Louis considers him for a moment before, "Harry, you know why you're here right?"

He nods again. But then, he realizes that he wasn't actually sure, so after a pause, he dips his chin and shakes his head.

Louis chuckles, good-naturedly, Harry reckons. When he looks up, the man was looking at him fondly. "You're so young and innocent, it makes me worry a little."

A line forms between Harry's brows, tilting his head to the side as he meets Louis' eyes, inquiring silently.

Louis crosses his arms against his chest, tucking his hands under his pits, and shakes his head. "The noises you heard last night was sex, Harry. I was having sex. And I asked you here because I think you're cute and I wanted to fuck you."

Harry looks up too quickly, with eyes bulging so big his eyeballs were looking like they were ready to fall out of their sockets. He's never met anyone so forward in his life. And he knows that the situation is not ideal, wrong in all respects, but while he is surprised beyond belief, parts of him tingle in anticipation. A kind of excitement he's not felt before in his short life. He doesn't realize that his pause had gone much too long that Louis had felt the need to sigh.

"If you aren't up for it, I won't force you, you know."

Harry is still a bit dazed at what he's just been told, mind a bit cloudy, so he doesn't answer immediately. Louis looks at him predatorily, it's mildly alarming, but mostly just engaging. Harry couldn't make his young self look away. The older man inches closer to him. Slowly, carefully. "You can leave right now," he says slowly, "if you want." The closer Louis got to him, the faster his heart beats, the sweatier his palms get. He thinks that he might be shaking but he can't actually tell. It's like he's removed from his own body. Just afloat in a space that consists of only Louis--his face, his smell, his touch.

His touch. Louis was touching him, Harry realizes. Louis' hooked index finger was under his chin, gently urging him to look up at him. Harry follows because how could he not. He doesn't feel in control of his body anymore. He's just a large mass of heat and...something. Something that's coiling in his belly and making him incredibly uncomfortable in his pants.

Louis leans down a bit until he is a mere inch from Harry's mouth. He can practically taste Louis through his breath. "Do you want to leave, Harold?"

It's rather dumb but it's the first thought that comes to him. And for some reason this weird feeling rids him of his brain to mouth filter and that's the thought that he voices out; rather awkwardly. "Name's not Harold."

Louis pauses, clearly not expecting it. And then he giggles. "Of course, not."

"But uhm," Harry says, feeling bold. It brings back Louis' attention to him. "If... I mean, if it's alright. I'd like to. Well, uhm, I quite would like to stay, please. If you don't mind."

Louis' grin could light up a whole village. "Brilliant," he mutters. And then, a little bit louder, he says, "come to bed with me, Harry." And reaches out a hand for the young boy to take.

"Okay," Harry says. He allows himself to be led upstairs, nerves all over the place.

When they reach the top step, Harry freezes and stares at the massive bed in front of him. He's never seen as big a bed in his life. He thinks ten people could easily fit in this bed. Louis turns to him questioningly, but is quickly replaced with amusement. He steps closer to Harry and snakes a hand around his waist, pressing their hips together. He plants his lips against Harry's temple and mumbles, "bigger room for play, eh?"

Harry can feel Louis smile against his skin as he shudders. "Come now, darling," he hears before he finds himself ushered further into the loft, closer and closer to the gigantic bed with dark green sheets. Louis lets go of him to climb onto the bed, walking to the middle. Polite as ever, Harry waits to be invited. And Louis does indeed. But not with words, just a single nod with hooded eyes looking at him. And it was such a small movement that if Harry had blinked, he'd have missed it. But he hasn't blinked for what seems like ages; and maybe he's stopped breathing every couple of seconds or so too, he doesn't even know anymore. Can't keep track of his own bodily functions.

He climbs up onto the bed and crawls. Crawls, because he couldn't for the life of him make his legs upright again. As he came closer to Louis, the older boy drops to his knees as well, trying to meet Harry at eye level.

"This is rather kinky, little Harold. Making it difficult for me to control myself, you know."

Harry's cheeks burn and he sticks his chin to his chest in an attempt to hide it. Louis sees, of course; his soft chuckle is proof of it. Harry is taken by surprise when Louis gets closer, inserting both hands inside his uniform jacket, rubbing his sides slow and firm. He feels the other man's breath on the side of his neck before wet lips touch his skin. He gasps, followed by a visible shudder.

Louis brings his hands up Harry's shoulders and removes his jacket, tossing it carefully somewhere to the side. He mouths at the curve between Harry's neck and shoulder, tongue laving at it, like Louis is tasting his skin, while he works on unraveling Harry's tie. It forces a whimper to escape Harry's lips without him meaning to. The sound seemingly fuels Louis' hunger over his skin that he moves his mouth from Harry's neck up to his ear.

Louis licks the lobe as he unbuttons Harry's shirt, sucking the soft flesh. The young boy whimpers again, partly ticklish and partly aroused.

"Lie down, baby," Louis commands huskily. Harry does as he's told, glazed eyes staring intently at Louis. The man gives him a small smile of reassurance.

The room is quiet, and it's only their heavy and ragged breathing that breaks the silence. It barely matters to Harry, though. Not when there is a handsome man hovering above him, rolling his right nipple between thumb and forefinger while licking, sucking and biting his left. The sensation sends his hips jerking upward. His confined rod bumps against Louis' chest as he did, which elicits a long suffering moan from him. Suddenly, he feels this uncanny need to be touched down there.

Harry's masturbated before. Twice. But it wasn't really a conscious effort. The first time, he was having a dream about two men kissing wetly. The sounds of tongue and spit being swapped, combined with the moans of both men, had sent him rutting against the mattress during the night. His orgasm had woken him up, and upon finding himself wet and sticky, he had cried. He thought he had wet the bed, and at thirteen, he felt incredibly embarrassed to had done so. He rushed to his bathroom, stripped his pyjamas off and dropped them into the bathtub and let the water run through it in an effort to erase his 'accident'.

The second time, although voluntary, was not really intended. It had been caused by a right daft moment for Harry. He was carrying a rather high stack of books into his room and had gone and walked into the corner of his desk, which unfortunately was perfectly leveled to his crotch. He did manage to lay the books on the table before crawling to his bed, gripping his cock and balls in both hands into a fetal position. After a moment, he went to rub at them over his trousers to try and ease the pain. As he willed the pain away, his mind wandered off into space where consisting of images of the shirtless building workers he had passed by on his way home from school. At least two of the men had caught Harry's eyes. They were incredibly fit, with muscles in all the right places, and Harry had been both jealous and aroused. His 15-year old cock was rock hard in a few moments. This time, he knew what would happen had he kept rubbing himself, but he hadn't stopped. Until he had finally relieved himself--both from his young gay boy hormones and his stupidity over the desk.

This will be his third time to get off. And he's both overwhelmed and excited at the thought that someone would do it for him. And somebody as incredibly fit as Louis, of all people. Harry feels like he's been rewarded for some good deed he's done. He couldn't tell what, but he must have done something so ace to merit what he's getting now. And what he was getting now is rich and handsome business man, Louis Tomlinson, kissing and licking his now-exposed pasty white stomach on his way down to his navel.

Louis dipped the tip of his tongue into Harry's navel, swirled it there, sucked hard on it, making Harry an even bigger mess than he already was, before straightening his back up to look at the younger one. "Doin' alright there, lad?"

"Yes," he answers with a croak. It earns him a sweet smile from Louis as the older one unbuttons his flies and pulls his zipper down, hooking his fingers on the side of his pants and trousers and pulling them both down, and then off. Suddenly, Harry is more naked than Louis is since they began this.

He was still gripping at the duvet as he lifted his head to watch Louis watch his fully-hard dick resting on his stomach. Louis. is. looking. at. his. dick. The thought makes his hard-on twitch, and Louis sees. And Harry thinks that he's happy about it because he smiles at the red thing before eying Harry a quick smirk and diving down again to lick a long stripe from the base to the tip.

Harry's eyes flutter shut and he unabashedly whimpers. Louis grips both his hips as he let his mouth do all the work over Harry's cock--mouthing on each of his balls, sucking and tugging at them; licking and sucking the length, paying attention to the protruding vein; closing over the angry head and sucking and sucking and sucking. Without touching him still, Louis slides his tongue down, enveloping his entire dick with warm and wet heat that Harry's never had the pleasure of having in his life. Harry is both in awe and reeling at Louis' capacity to do this.

Louis pulls back up, sucking hard all the way, letting his wet dick flop onto his skin. Harry can't help the cry he makes at that.

"Like that, don't you?"

Harry dares to open his eyes and was met with blown pupils amidst glazed blues. Louis squeezes his hips and he just knew that it was a signal that he was supposed to answer. So, he nods.

Louis grins, then. All bright and giddy. "You'll come for me, yeah? Then, I'm gonna fuck you, is how it's gonna be."

"O-okay."

Without preamble, Louis bends back down and takes Harry in his mouth. Harry muffles another cry of pleasure as Louis goes all the way down again and sucks hard on his way back up. Louis keeps his mouth around the head and sucks like one would a lolly a few times, steadying the length with one hand. Soft tongue swirls around hard head, as Louis slowly, steadily strokes with a firm grip. Louis' mouth is gone from his cock in a moment but Harry finds it paying his balls some close attention as Louis continues to stroke him.

Self-control leaves Harry when he cries loud and filthy from a calloused thumb grazing over his slit. He was close. And it looks like Louis knew it was so.

Louis leaves his balls and takes the head of his cock into his mouth again. Sucking harder as the hand on Harry's shaft stroked faster. He was whimpering non-stop now. Can actually feel tears sliding down the corners of his eyes. "Come on, baby," Louis says quietly. "Come for daddy."

Louis' thumb glides over Harry's slit once again, and it drives Harry over the edge. Jerking his hips involuntarily. Groaning loud. Pulling at the duvet. Louis doesn't stop pumping his cock. Gets him through the throes of it. Praising him along the way.

When he calms down a bit, he finds an arm rounding his waist and lifting him slightly off the bed. Louis buries his face on his stomach, smearing his come all over his soft belly with his lips. Moving on instinct, Harry brings a hand over the back of Louis' head. He hears a moan from the man just as soon as he feels the flat of Louis' tongue over his stomach. Harry realizes with mild alarm that Louis was cleaning up his mess. Harry doesn't find it revolting, but he's shocked at what was happening.

"L-Louis," he breathes, in an attempt to be noticed. It works. Louis looks up at him, tip of his tongue still on Harry's skin.

Louis sees the apprehension in Harry's face. He understands that this must be something new to him and is probably weirded out by it, so he reassures the boy with a smile and a declaration of, "you taste so good, Harry. So perfect."

Amazingly so, Harry blushes even more than he already is from his post-orgasm bliss. He retrieves both hands and covers them over his face. Louis chuckles at the gesture and climbs up to face the him.

Louis steadies himself on one elbow, half of his body draping over Harry's, one jogger-clad leg between the boy's thighs. "Hey, love," he says as he pulls a hand off of Harry's face. "No need to be shy." Louis mouths at his jaw and cheek as he removes the other hand. Harry doesn't fight it. Feeling like it's second nature to just go pliant over anything Louis does. Louis cups his face and continues to pepper his jaw and cheek with dry kisses.

Harry mewls when Louis reached the side of his neck, feels wetness again after a long moment of such dry kisses. He becomes aware of the man's body lined against his side. He feels the hardness that was being rubbed against his hip. Suddenly, between the embarrassment and the arousal, he feels pride. Proud that he did that. He got his fit bloke neighbor stiff between his legs. Him, who has absolutely zero experience in all of this.

"Fuck," Louis says, breathless, still rutting slow and firm against Harry. "Could come like this. You're so hot."

Harry's an intelligent boy with a wide vocabulary, but he is left utterly dumb by those words. He makes a clipped sound instead, accented by heavy breathing through his mouth.

Louis hugs him by the waist and pulls him so that their positions were reversed: Louis on his back and Harry half draped over him. "Wanna be inside you, though," Louis says, nuzzling at Harry's dampening curls. "But only if you want it, too."

The hand that found its way on Louis' shoulder tightens. "I do," Harry hears himself say. His heart skips as he feels Louis grin against his temple.

Louis' embrace tightens. "Say it. Say you want it."

"Want it," Harry mumbles against Louis' fragrant chest--whatever cologne he is wearing is mad good and Harry is sure he will be haunted by it long after he goes back later to his own home.

"What d'you want?" Harry makes a keening sound, severely embarrassed by this exchange. Louis chuckles, but insists, "you have to tell me what you want, darling."

Harry shudders as Louis traces his spine with the edges of his fingernails. And then it spills out of him. "Want you to fuck me." As an afterthought, he tacks, "please."

"I'd like that," Harry hears after he buries his face in his palms again. "Bum's proper cleaned, love?"

Harry shrugs. He's cleaned himself just fine when he showered in the morning. Nothing more than usual, he reckons.

"Okay," Louis grunts, moving to get up. "Let us show you how to do this."

Harry watches as Louis stands up and finds himself eye level with the man's tented joggers. He looks up from where he's sat and makes the observation that, "you're still hard."

Louis smiles fondly at him. "How could I not be, when you're looking so delicious like that." Harry's cheeks burn. "Up you go then. Come on."

They go through a doorway without a door, passes through a large closet with long and high rows of neatly lined clothes and shoes, into another doorway without a door, and finally into a massive yet minimalistic but undoubtedly expensive bathroom. Louis leads him into the shower where Harry thinks could fit a good five people comfortably at any one time. He watches Louis remove his joggers, throwing it on the floor outside of the shower enclosure, before closing the door in place.

Harry stares openly at Louis' standing member, all flushed pink, longer and fatter than Harry's, bobbing everywhere as he fusses about. Louis fiddles with the buttons of the shower control, beeping sounds filling the silence between them as he adjusts the temperature of the water. And then, it rains.

Harry blinks once before looking above him to discover that the entirety of the ceiling is, in fact, the shower. "Cool, huh?" Louis says, grabbing back his attention. He nods in agreement. "I've had it installed especially. Could also make it thunder. It'd be like fucking outdoors in a thunderstorm." He flashes Harry that smirk that he does through the gentle rain, and it makes Harry's cock twitch to life. "But that's for another day, I reckon."

Another day. Oh god.

Louis loops an arm around his shoulders and guides him to the wall, where the lights on the walls were protected from the rain and a long row of ledge was built, wide enough that two people could actually lie down on it side by side to each other. Louis doesn't sit them though, he just turns so they are facing each other and leans in to kiss Harry's temple. Harry whimpers at the warmth that his older lover is planting on his skin; reaches to cup both sides of Louis' neck.

Harry feels a hand sliding down his back and grabbing the curve of an arse cheek, while the mouth on him has taken to sucking and nibbling at one ear. Louis gets a leg between both of Harry's, rubbing wetly his balls and half-hard dick. At the same time, Harry is all too aware of Louis' own hard dick pressed against his side, just a little above his hip. Louis inserts the tip of his tongue into Harry's earlobe all of a sudden, making the younger lad squirm a little from the tickling feel of it.

"Now pay attention, Harry."

He does immediately, because in class, he always does.

Louis grips tight an arsecheek and pulls it to the side. His other hand finally makes an appearance when the slippery flat of his middle finger glides up and down the line of Harry's crack. Harry, in turn, forces back the mixed sounds of embarrassment and arousal by burying his face on Louis' collarbone.

"Clean yourself good, yeah? Make sure that puckering hole is soaped up right in all its folds." Louis presses the soapy pad of his middle against Harry's arsehole and rubs. Up and down, right and left, round and round. Harry's hands shoot up and grab on to the small hairs on the back of Louis' neck, chanting an _uh uh uh_ sound with every rubbing done to his hole.

Louis' slick hand leaves Harry's bum to re-soap his fingers. He was instructed to lift a leg onto the ledge, and so he did. "Right, then," Louis begins again, soapy fingers back to Harry's crack. "This is important, babe. Must do this always." Before Harry could even nod to show that he understands, Louis inserts a finger into him in one smooth swoop. The suddenness makes Harry press his body hard against Louis, crying out an abnormally high-pitched sound. "You're alright. Doing good, babe," Louis soothes against his hair.

Harry feels weak from the sensation of Louis' finger moving in and out of him, rounding the inner walls, soaping them clean as much as it could be done; and if he wasn't holding on tight to Louis and Louis wasn’t holding him just as tight, his knees would've given out and he'd be a heap on the shower room floor, slumped on the puddling tiles brought about by the chlorinated rain. "Should learn to do this yourself, yeah?" Louis tells him.

He's really not in a position to find words anymore so he just mewls, which Louis seems to take as a sign that he understands.

When the soap has been washed away, Harry's already turned into jelly. He second guesses on whether he could still make a trip back to the bed. And he second guesses himself if he could take Louis' dick, because what he just had in him was one slender finger and he's already drained himself, what more if it was already Louis' cock inside him that was looking four, five times thicker than a finger.

Louis holds him closer, enveloping him in strong arms, seemingly aware of his doubts, and asks, "Still want it?"

Harry takes a moment to ponder the question, resting his temple against the crook of Louis' shoulder, rubbing his nose against the wetness of Louis' neck. He was being given an out. But it's not really about that for Harry. He wasn't going to back out. He wants Louis to fuck him. He's sure about it. He's just a little nervous, is all. So he tells him, " I want it."

Harry can feel Louis' happiness even if he can't see it. And it makes him happy that he's just pleased someone with his choices.

Louis carries Harry back to the bedroom without Harry having to ask. It's just like he knew that Harry needed a bit of assistance with transit. They make the short trip from the bathroom to the bedroom with Harry wrapped around Louis' front like a koala.

He is gently laid in the middle of the bed, still wet from the shower, and is left alone for a minute as Louis retrieved what he said were essentials. He comes back with a bottle and a square foil packet. He thinks he knows what they are, even though he's never actually seen such items up close.

Louis gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek before making him turn over. A hand caresses his damp body before another hand comes in contact with his skin too. They travel lower to cup his arsecheeks and give them a quick squeeze. He is told to get on all fours and to spread his knees wide; he follows. Louis settles between his folded legs and rubs gently at his exposed hole, moving lower to grope his balls, and then his cock.

Harry's breathing heavier now. He knows what's coming next.

He feels something wet trickle down his crack, pooling a little bit at his hole and continuously flows down to his perineum. Louis kisses the dip of his back and then, without any warning whatsoever, slides a finger in him. Slow but with purpose. Never stopping until the second knuckle is all the way win. He barely muffles the whine that comes out of his mouth, using his arm to conceal the sound.

"Ssshhh, doing great, Harry." Louis' voice was ragged and low, and it was sexy beyond anything Harry's ever heard in his life. But he's focusing on the finger that's relentlessly moving in and out of him. "That okay?" Louis asks, the fingernails of his free hand traveling up and down Harry's spine. "Tell me if you need more lube, yeah?"

When he's gotten used to the feel, Louis tells him that he was going to put in another finger. Harry shudders, but nods just the same. The stretching his rim gets this time burns more prominently, and when Louis started to push and pull, albeit still done carefully, he can feel a slight pain. "L-Louis, I--"

"Too dry? Okay." Harry is wonderstruck at how Louis just knows what he needs, how much attention this man is giving him.

The glide is smoother now; extremely wet though. And Harry's quite certain it's messing up the duvet. He has half the mind to reach between his legs and catch the drip of the lube into his palms when Louis curls his fingers inside him, sending a jolt of electricity through his body; making him cry out loud.

"Yeah? Good, innit?"

Louis does it again. Harry releases a long wail again. His dick throbs angrily as the head grazes the soft cotton below him.

He feels teeth against the meat of his arse, biting him at just the right side of pleasurable. "Three," he thinks he hears. He's not sure anymore. Not sure he even exists at this point.

Surprisingly, three wasn't as painful as two. And it was a very quick episode before Louis was pulling his hand away, giving the bumps on Harry's spine a long lick, and settling back between his knees. He hears the soft sound of the foil ripping and latex against flesh, before Louis is gripping his hip to secure him in place.

"Gonna hurt a bit, but I need you to relax, okay?" When he doesn't answer, Louis squeezes his hip. "Harry?"

He nods. Too consumed by his nerves to move his head from where it's planted on the mattress.

"You have to talk, Harry. If anything's the matter, I can't--"

"Okay," he croaks. "'M okay. Want this."

There was a pause. "You'll tell me if it--"

"I'll tell."

Louis seems to have been reassured by this because the next thing Harry knows, the blunt of Louis' cock was nudging against his entrace. And when the head breaches his rim, Harry mewls long and high-pitched. He whimpers for every inch entering him. Louis isn't silent either as he pushes carefully into Harry, constantly murmuring things to make him feel better, telling him he's doing great, that he's so perfect and so hot.

After what seems like ages, Louis stops. Harry realizes that Louis is buried in him to the hilt. They both try to even out their breathing in silence, which Louis eventually broke. "Alright?"

Harry sniffles, and he was surprised by this. He didn't even notice that he was crying. Not until he finds himself with a face wet with tears. But he's okay, really. He feels full but it's a good kind.

Louis drapes over his back, rounding strong arms around him, and plants soft kisses on his shoulder. "You feel so, so good, babe. So tight and warm around me."

Harry closes his hands over Louis' but doesn't say anything. He still couldn't help the sniffles he's making and the spilling of his tears, but he feels so good, and he hopes Louis knows this just by his touch.

Louis starts to move. It's nothing really. Just swaying them both to the same direction, as if it were a dance. It goes like so for a couple of minutes, the older giving the younger time to adjust. And then, Louis pulls his hips back and away. Allowing some of his length to slide out of Harry before sliding back in again. He moves ever so gentle; careful not to rush Harry.

He's fucking, Harry thinks. He's actually doing it. He smiles inwardly at the thought. He's no virgin anymore.

He lets Louis do what he thinks is right; he's been trusting the man's judgments from the beginning of all this, so he sees no reason to interfere now. Until it simply wasn't enough. The coil in Harry's belly needs something more than the easy glide of Louis' cock in and out of him. So he gathers his bearings and begins to move, slowly at first, meeting Louis' thrusts with his own. And then he slams back hard enough that the slapping sound of their flesh bounces off the walls.

"F-fuck, Ha-Harry."

Harry feels a sudden rush of pride, a sense of achievement. For a second, he made Louis stutter, sounding broken like Harry had been the whole time. Harry had cracked Louis' calmness for that short moment.

Harry does it again. And again. And again. But then Louis leans back and holds on to Harry's hips, pressing his thumbs against his soft skin. He whimpers at the pain it's brought.

"Riling me up, are you?" asks Louis. And it was in a tone so ominous, Harry literally shivers. He turns to look at Louis, to tell him that he wasn't doing anything, but when they lock eyes, Harry freezes.

Louis' predatory look was there, sinister and lustful. Louis pushes Harry’s shoulders back down to the mattress and pulls his bum closer against Louis' dick. Louis plants one foot on the mattress, knee bended, and pulls back lightning fast, only to slam into Harry just as fast but harder. So much harder that it sends Harry jerking forward into the softness of the bed. Louis does the same thing over and over in quick succession; not giving Harry time to breathe.

For his part, he tried to seal his lips. Not to make a noise. But that endeavour was quick to end, as he cries out for every moment that Louis dicks into him. And when Louis shifted so his cock was nudging unforgivingly at that spot inside him, tears began to spill out from the corners of his eyes again.

He feels so incredibly good that his body can't take it. Then he feels the rise of the familiar tightening of his belly. He's close. He's going to come for the second time today.

Louis' grunting above him. Putting all his energy into it. Harry can feel water droplets hitting his bum--Louis' sweat, he figures.

Harry screams brokenly as his seed explodes all over the duvet, reaching his peak despite his cock having been completely untouched. Louis doesn't stop fucking him. Even as the man grunts from Harry's involuntary squeezing, he doesn't lose his rhythm. But Harry realizes that Louis was about to come too when he breaks the steady tempo of his movements and his hips falter. He fucks hard into Harry once, twice, three times, until he groans long and deep. And Harry feels the hot throbbing of Louis' dick inside him, coming hard into the condom.

Louis drops his weight on Harry, resulting in Harry's legs giving out and he falls flat onto the mattress. He feels Louis' hot breath on the back of his neck before he feels the playful bite on his shoulder.

"Jesus," his lover says hoarsely.

Louis kisses the back of his head and slowly pulls out of him, to which Harry responds by whimpering. He feels incredibly sensitive and while it feels so good, it hurts so bad too. He doesn't move from his position, doesn't watch Louis as he moves about. He's just slumped there on his front trying to calm himself down. There was still that occasional jolt of electricity hitting every nerve of his body. It runs from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers to the tips of his nipples. He can't tell where the pleasure ends and the pain begins. It's all too new to him.

Suddenly, he is being manhandled; his sweaty back connects to an equally sweaty chest. Louis has him completely wrapped in his arms, one leg hanging over the side of his leg. Harry can feel Louis' soft cock on the underside of his bum. The man nuzzles at Harry's damp hair and kisses the back of his ear. He can't help the giggle that escapes his lips.

"Think this was a very bad idea," Louis says.

The smile falls off Harry's face in an instant. "Oh. 'M sorry."

"Mhmm," Louis confirms, nibbling at Harry's ear. "Very bad idea."

Harry doesn't answer. Couldn't really, because he was on the verge of crying. Hurt and upset because Louis feels the complete opposite of how he feels.

"Hey, hey, hey." Louis shuffles him so they are facing each other. It's embarrassing to Harry because he doesn't think he can keep his face in check. He doesn't want to seem too pathetic, even if he knows he actually is. "No need for a strop, love." Louis strokes his cheek and kisses away the line that formed between his brows. "Just meant that after that, don't think I'd be able to resist myself all that well, y'know?"

Harry looks up at him questioningly.

Louis sighs and pecks the tip of his nose. "I'm going to always want you, baby. Here in my bed. Even now, I'm thinking of all the ways I can make you feel good. And that might be a problem, yeah?"

"No, it won't."

"No?"

Harry shakes his head. "No. I--I want to be here too. I really. I really like it." He means to punctuate it at that, but because he's somewhat of a hopeless case, really, he says. "I really like you."

The fond smile that forms on Louis' face was such a reward that Harry instantly feels good for saying what he said. Louis takes him into a tight embrace and Harry basks in it, pushing his body impossibly closer against Louis'.

After a little bit more cuddling, Louis asks if Harry's going to be missed at home. He answers truthfully, so Louis entangles their limbs and tells Harry to get dressed. Louis walks him to the door, making a date for Harry to stop by on Thursday after school, same time as today.

"Louis?" Harry says by the foyer.

The man stops midway into reaching for the doorknob and turns to the boy. "Yes, babe?"

Harry is suddenly shy. His cheeks burning from what he was about to ask. It's so dumb, he thinks, that Louis might just laugh at his face. Louis sees his internal struggle and walks over to him, framing his scrawny shoulders with bigger and calloused hands.

"What is it?" he asks, peering down at Harry, trying to see the boy's eyes.

"Can I," Harry starts, still not looking up, "can I ask you for something?"

"Anything, darling."

He looks up then, shy but hopeful. "C-can you, like. Can I get a kiss? On the lips, like. You never--today, you didn't. And I've never kissed anyone before and I just--"

Louis shuts him up with soft, wet lips, fitting perfectly against his own. Louis' hands are on the sides of Harry's head, as a warm tongue slips between his parted lips. Harry holds on to Louis' waist for purchase, feeling like whatever remaining energy he has left is draining away.

Harry's got nothing to compare it with, but Louis kisses him like he wants him. Like it's the only real thing there ever was. And that's enough for Harry. Much more than he deserves, in fact.

They part sucking in gulps of air. Breathing against each other's wet, swollen lips.

"Good?" Louis whispers.

Harry smiles timidly, nodding his assent. Feeling bold, he swoops in to catch Louis' mouth against his. They kiss again, tonguing at each other, sucking at each other's lips. Harry feels himself getting hard again, pressing himself against Louis' front. He thinks he can feel Louis getting hard from it too.

"Okay, okay." Louis pulls off and pushes him gently away. "If you don't go now, you won't be going home at all tonight. So, just. I'll see you on Thursday, yeah?"

Even though he didn't want to stop, he has to agree with Louis. He needs to go. Dinner's probably all set already, and his mum must be worried.

He steals one last kiss before he runs the 15-feet distance from Louis' door to their own. When he gets inside their apartment, he tries to head off to his own room to change for supper, but he gets accosted by his mum.

"Harry Edward Styles. Where in bloody hell have you been?"

He freezes as he wracks his head for an answer, but his treacherous brain produces only, "out?"

"Out, where? I've been ringing you but apparently you've left your mobile. And why are you all sweaty?"

"I--have--gone running?"

She raises an eyebrow at him, folding her arms across her chest, assessing. "You've gone running," she parrots, clearly not impressed. "In your school uniform."

He thanks all the dieties of every religion to ever exist when the front door bursts open and his dad comes through it.

"Father's here!" He exclaims. "I'm going to get changed for supper." He runs for his room without waiting for anyone's response; and as he bounds up the staircase, he thinks he's safe for tonight.

He's going to need an excuse for Thursday.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: harry and louis are neighbors and get stuck in an elevator for a few hours and have to pass the time; harry decides that this is the best time to ask louis what all of those noises were last night


End file.
